Turns Blue
by Hito
Summary: Leaving with more than you came with. No couple yet.


Turns Blue  
  
Rating: G  
  
Couple: Maybe  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. You want inventivness, look somewhere else.  
  
Feedback: If you're feeling kind. Or mean. Whichever.  
  
Author's Note: This is kind of odd, I think. Really just set up, if I can dredge up the time to continue it in.  
  
  
  
Leathery green plastic of the chairs lighter than the piping on the white wall behind. Lining the walls, knocked out of place by earlier patients. Bareness of the walls despite the coat of paint, functional, institutional. Television murmuring in the corner, nothing more than background noise, an attempt to distract rather than entertain. Three prints on the walls; black and white, fine strokes, city scenes. Definitely Hartford, but nothing she recognised. Sticker of a green paw-print in the bottom corner of one, on the glass. More on the wall behind her, copyrighted Dalmatians. Toys in a box on the floor, jarring brightness, the rest of the room so muted. Children's books stacked on a low table. A lot of the leaflets on the notice-board seem to be about children: how to cope with a crisis pregnancy, how to detect melengitis in infants, what not to do while pregnant. There's a beautiful baby boy on the melengitis notice. Rory's never noticed the toys before. She must have, once, but now she heads straight for the magazine rack below the television.  
  
A mother cuddles a baby a few chairs down. Sean, she told Lorelai, but didn't give her own name. He has a sniffle. She's worried because he was a month premature, only five weeks old. There had been a lot of talk about baby clothes. Lorelai hadn't been able to resist telling the other woman why she was here. Rory didn't like the baby all that much. He looked like an old man, with a yellowish cast to his skin, eyelids pinched closed and drool all over his face. At least he's quiet.  
  
The crisis pregnancy leaflet is for one of those places that claim to support you through these difficult times. When you have no one else to turn to. They do, do an admirable job, if you make the choices they want you to. Rory isn't sure why she feels like that applies. It feels like she's here for an abortion, rather than a pregnancy test. Even if the test was positive, it wouldn't be a crisis, not by any means. She has no reason to feel like this, but—she just does.  
  
Maybe it's the lighting. The lighting in waiting rooms is truly awful. Maybe it's the absence of Lorelai's infectious enthusiasm. When she lit up like that, you had to feel happy, if only for her. Or maybe it's the absence of her spasmodic crippling doubt. When she started panicking, freaking out over every little thing, Rory had to comfort her, steadying, reassuring herself along with her mother.  
  
The woman left.  
  
She would be happy, she knew she would be happy, it just didn't feel like it. Staring at the wall, noting little bumps, imperfections in the plaster, she doesn't think much. The hum of the television matches the buzzing in her head.  
  
A squeal from the doctor's office. Could be relief—this isn't the most opportune time for Lorelai to be pregnant—but Rory doesn't think so. She knows she's grinning, knows she must mean it, because there's no one else here to see it, but she can't feel a thing.  
  
Lorelai doesn't come out. A strange man in a suit paces past the open door. The doctor doesn't wear a suit. It's odd being here after opening hours; it makes the trip seem sort of clandestine. Which it sort of is, now that she comes to think about it. The man keeps walking past, and he looks in at her every time. Probably wondering why she's still here. She's been here a long time. Lorelai's been in there a very long time. She must be pregnant.  
  
The door opens, finally; her mother's voice gets louder. Stumbling out of the room before she knows it. Lorelai's face is blank, eyes bright. Rory looks a question. Lorelai nods.  
  
Her phone rings; she answers, and lies to Luke. Just as unsteady on her feet as Rory, towards the door. Has to return to pay the doctor. In the mad rush out the door after the third test, Lorelai didn't bring enough money, but it's okay because he's their regular doctor and he knows she'll be back. Rory goes back into the waiting room, paces once, twice, trying for composure, rejoins them.  
  
Closes the door very carefully after herself, outside again. Blank black glass, a small plaque proclaiming what's inside, nothing to show what's just happened. A man climbs out of a car beside them. Rory wonders what he's going to think.  
  
Lorelai turns towards her. Grabbing her shoulders, squeezing, can't remember moving. Just her shoulders, because, can't hug her properly, have to be careful. Careful of the baby. She'll have to take care of herself now. Eyes closed tight against emotion, trying not to lose it on the sidewalk in front of the doctor's offices and the newsagents. Saying things together, into each others ears. Repeating phrases after her mother, not knowing what they are. Knowing they're nice, although she's probably cursing more than she ever has before. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Settling for a teary grin.  
  
Lorelai pulls back.  
  
"Oh, stop, or you'll make me—I'm going to start crying."  
  
Eyes bright for a different reason now. Rory follows her to the car, going to the wrong side first. Embarrassed that she's so out of it. Lorelai takes a moment to get herself under control, releasing a long breath through her mouth.  
  
"He told me I'd be a good mother. Before I had you."  
  
It seems important to master small actions: seatbelt, meet buckle.  
  
"He's a very wise man."  
  
"He knew I was pregnant before he did the test. Said I had the look. He sees so many women…. I need folic acid."  
  
"Stop and get some. In Hartford."  
  
Ah, brain, meet mouth.  
  
"Yeah. I can't believe it. I know I said I would after a qualified doctor told me, but I can't. I can't believe I'm this lucky."  
  
"I know."  
  
Lorelai turned the key over in the ignition.  
  
"I can't even get drunk to celebrate."  
  
The sun had set. As they pulled out of the lot, the grey sky was streaked with warm, wispy pink clouds.  
  
"That's so beautiful."  
  
"It really is," Rory agreed. 


End file.
